She dreamed of a mountain in the shape of a pyramid. A mountain that sat in a landscape of green and rose high above the clouds, nestled in a pure blue sky. She stood at the bottom, her eyes searching as far as they could see, but she could not make out the summit. She wore white, with a rope tied around her arm, and she knew that she had to climb. Climb so high that she could touch the sky, but there was no path to lead the way.
I am failing, rapidly. Unless this weekend brings time and Speedy Gonzales levels of motivation, I won’t be a winner in NaNoWriMo this year. At the start of the month, I did consider my timetable for November and felt (looking back now, overly) optimistic that I could fit in writing 2,000 words every day but, unfortunately, other aspects of life and learning have stolen my time and zapped what little energy I had in reserve. That’s not to say I have given up! I love the story that I’m writing and am still managing to write around 500 words every other day (or so), and I intend to finish this one. I will see where I am come Sunday.
Tweet
